A Labor of Love

After a decade at Single Lock, I'm stepping back.

For the last decade, my creative and professional life has been defined by what happened at Single Lock Records. One of the things I tend to talk about with Ben Tanner, one of my partners at the label, is that we are writing our own chapter in the Muscle Shoals history book. In my job as cheerleader-in-chief, that’s been one of the constant rallying cries. Twelve years on, I believe we’ve achieved that.

In fact, we’ve achieved goals I was frankly never audacious enough to consider. I’ve been to the Grammy Awards— for a reason!— three times, now. I’ve opened up Billboard and read about our records! I’ve walked into record shops in just about every corner of this world and found our releases! We’ve done panel discussions and lectures and seminars… hell, they even asked me to be a model… once.

The origin story and history of Single Lock has been told (over and over) and is readily available in countless articles, so I won’t bore you with that. But I do want to reflect on where we’ve ended up, tell some stories, remember some people and then make a challenge. It’s very rare that I allow myself to be this long winded, but after this long behind the wheel, I figure it’s alright for me to pull over at the Love’s Truck Stop of life and have a passable cup of coffee. So join me, if you’d like. This is about as long winded and melodramatic as I get.

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No burying the lede here: I am stepping back from my role as label manager and day-to-day director at Single Lock at the end of the year. My focus is turning to (you guessed it) Well Kept Secret, an artist management and label services company I’ve established in New Orleans. In addition, I have accepted a role in an exciting new dream project that I will be able to announce soon. I remain a co-owner of Single Lock, so I won’t be hard to find, nor will I be completely out of the picture. My time as the main combustible engine is, however, coming to an end.

Before I go any further, I want to say thanks to some people I love. It’ll be quick, but it’s important to me that it’s public.

Ben Tanner, John Paul White, Reed Trickett and Will Trapp, y’all are my partners in this thing and I dearly love you guys. Thank you for everything you’ve brought to this project (an understatement!) and for letting me pilot the plane and take a bunch of chances. When I moved to Florence, Alabama my brain was completely shattered by a natural disaster and I was searching for my next step. Y’all helped me find it, and I am a better person for finding you all. Thank you.

Addy Kimbrell, I don’t really know what else there is to say that I haven’t already said. You were my left hand and right brain for the ups and downs of this thing. Thank you.

Adam Morrow, Jonathan Oliphant, Haley Webster, Hayden Crawford, Albert Rothstein, Austin Motlow, Mark Falk, Emmie Chambers, Abbie Holcomb, Mattie Stembridge, Emily Fisher, Hannah Johnson, Todd Beene, Hayden Behel, Tabitha Ramsey, Jamie Sego and the countless folks in Florence that helped out from time to time— whether you were an intern or a 116 mule or a studio assistant, I just want to say thank you.

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I’m the kind of fella that saves everything, and I mean everything. My home office is basically a museum for the only person on the planet that’s as fascinated as I am at the work I get to do— and that’s me. It annoys anyone who shares a space with me, but it’s how I remember and celebrate the absolute privilege I have to do this work. Here are some of my favorites.

This one always gets a second look. I used to be in a band called Belle Adair (we made a record I am quite proud of) and we had the privilege of working in FAME Studios in Muscle Shoals and The Loft in Chicago. The Loft is Wilco’s studio— obviously a band that we were all huge fans of. This was the parking placard they gave us. I will never, ever forget the thrill of going there to work.

Speaking of cool rooms to work in— my time (and honor) of playing behind Cedric Burnside gave me a lot of great ones to remember. This was a composite of some shots that Abraham Rowe took while we were making the GRAMMY Award winning record I Be Trying at historic Royal Studios in Memphis with my buddy Boo Mitchell. Cedric took me all over the world, something I’m incredibly grateful for, but getting to make music in that hallowed space is a gift I’ll always treasure.

Yes, I’m the sucker that buys the Grammy Certificates¹. It’s part of a promise I made to myself way back when, and that’s to never take any of this for granted. If the opportunity ever arose to be in that number, I would take it and treasure it. This is part of that. Normal folks just don’t understand what it takes (and what luck it takes) to even half a scintilla of a career in this business. Gratitude doesn’t even begin to cover it.

After the Grammy stuff, things like this started to arrive in the mail. Total shock. Zigaboo Modeliste is on my Mount Rushmore of Drummers². It’s always gratifying when people pay attention to what you’re doing, but this was very special. It also proves that, at any level, the smallest act of kindness can be revelatory. Our business could stand to remember that.

John Prine certainly understood that, and so did Donnie Fritts— a man who I consider to truly represent the heart and soul of Single Lock. This photo was taken in Nashville while filming the (must see) documentary we commissioned to accompany the release of Donnie’s LP Oh My Goodness. I could do a lot of subsequent letters about my relationship with Donnie (I probably should), but for the sake of brevity I’ll just say that he became one of my best friends and I miss him dearly.

This was a poster we had everyone sign at Donnie’s memorial service/concert. As you can see, the community loved him. I’ve spoken to Will Trapp often about how the Shoals music scene was fundamentally altered by his passing. I’m not sure if it’s better or worse, but it’s different. He represented something so pure about our work. Whether he was in a good mood or a bad mood (and he could have those³), he cared so deeply about his art. It’s a lesson to all of us.

When Donnie could play shows, we liked to use Belle Adair as his backing band. I could write a book on the fabled RV Tour⁴, where we took Will’s RV and stuffed it with our gear, ourselves and Donnie, and drove throughout the midwest opening shows for Larry Campbell & Teresa Williams. For Belle Adair’s release show, though, Donnie wanted to open it. I always thought that was cool. This dude played the Isle of Wight and he’s eager to sing some songs before our little band plays at our little club in little ol’ Florence, Alabama. There’s a lesson there, too.

One of the joys of Single Lock was how we connected young guys with older heroes in the scene. To me, nobody embodies that spirit quite like David Hood. David has played on numerous Single Lock releases, always eager to get in the studio and make some sounds with anyone. Being a drummer, I would often look over and see David completing the rhythm section. That should have be intimidating, but because of that guy’s spirit and general coolness, it never was. When we were at Muscle Shoals Sound making Donnie’s final record, David left his handwritten chart for our moody take on Arthur Alexander’s classic “You Better Move On”. Being the packrat and nerd that I am, I took it. There’s some serious Shoals mojo going on with it and I find it very inspiring— considering how old the song is and how nobody involved was afraid to mess with it and create something new and interesting. Another great lesson!!

This is a photo from when I played the Ryman Auditorium with John Paul White and the band. Talk about a bucket list moment. Thanks for letting us come along for that ride, John. You are one of the most talented human beings I’ve ever been around. I don’t know if God exists, I really don’t… but I know that if he/she does, they are responsible for your voice. If not, it’s just dumb luck. Either way, lucky you!

This is a Robby Amonett painting of Belle Adair playing at Callaghan’s in Mobile, Alabama. One of the enduring joys of this business is connecting with others in different places who share your excitement about the work. Callaghan’s is a venue that truly supports music— a very special place. There are rooms like it dotted all over the world. You don’t find them everyday, but when you do, you cherish them and hold onto them. The community of musicians and music lovers in this world make me feel like there’s hope left for it— so go find your local spot and support it!

This was the drumhead I used for the Single Lock 10th Anniversary concerts in Florence last year. It was a really special night, but it was also the night I realized that I was closer to the end of this journey than the beginning. That one is hard to explain, but sometimes you simply feel it. Sometimes you just have to pause for a second and reflect. This night was the first time I’d really done that. Any bittersweet feeling I had that day was wiped away at the Lava Room that weekend, where basically everybody involved in this thing jumped on stage and just played songs all night. That was way more fun than any Grammy Award show.

Finally, I couldn’t finish this without acknowledging the honor of calling these men friends. I’m not sure I’ve worked with anyone more inspiring and delightful than the Blind Boys of Alabama. I come from a religious background, so I’m familiar with all the signposts, but I am not a religious person… and that might make you wonder why I found my time with these guys so meaningful. Let me explain.

Close your eyes, right now, and try to do something. Imagine living your life that way. I simply don’t have the vocabulary to explain what a triumph it is for these guys to walk on stage and perform, much less get through airports, hotels, customs, street crossings… the normal things of life. But to take that disability, believe in something greater than yourself, and commit your life to it? It taught me something and I will treasure that forever. This was one of my favorite projects I’ve been involved with and we were honored to have them perform at our 10th Anniversary concerts.

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One of the things I’ve been thinking about lately is what it means to support something, so I’ll step on my soapbox and leave you with this thought.

Bear with me…

Where does the music business fit into the 21st century? Where does it fit into your life? What is the responsibility of the patron⁵ in all of this?

The reality is that, in 2024 and beyond, something like Single Lock is a miraculous enterprise that exists solely based on the generosity of benefactors and patrons like you. It takes a tremendous amount of money and support to keep it going. For our investors, the label has been an act of patronage— not profit. If you want to see businesses like this continue to thrive, they need your support.

Silicon Valley tech bros have introduced and normalized a society that, whether they know it or not, values a coffee or a beer more than they do art⁶. You didn’t make that decision. It was made for you by people who couldn’t care less about music.

The destruction that’s been wrought on the musical middle class in America is coming to a business/trade near you, whether you know it or not. It may not look like streaming, but it will be the eventual devaluation and homogenization of something you enjoy or make a living from. Who needs skill and creativity when the machine does it all? Who needs personality in a world of devices?

This is my challenge: if you truly care, resist this change while those of us in the business work hard to find new ways to support artists.

If there’s a show, go see it!
If there’s a new release, buy it!
If you love something, share it!
If the person makes something you enjoy, tell them!

It doesn’t take that many people to make a difference in a world where art is devalued— especially in small communities. It also makes you feel good. That’s valuable!

This is at the heart of the work we do at Single Lock and the work I’ve dedicated my life to. But you don’t have to make it your career to prioritize it— you can simply see the show, buy the record, share the music and encourage the creators.

My sincere hope is that society starts to push back against this degradation. My work will continue to revolve around this ideal, and I know that Single Lock will continue that fight, as well. Part of my personal life change I’m embarking on is a sincere attempt to figure out better ways to do this work. Things will be different in a decade and I want to help find a way forward.

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Good work isn’t about accomplishments or bucket lists. It’s about community. It’s about finding your people and holding firm to something that makes you feel alive in a world that shrugs it’s shoulders. The folks in this picture above me (and many not pictured) have worked, are working, and will continue to work to chase that dream, whether it’s at Single Lock or in their own personal endeavors.

I’m excited to see where they take it, whether it’s Single Lock, a project I love dearly, or the many individual bands, projects and ideas they have their hands on. I’ll keep you all updated on the path I’m taking. Keep me updated on yours.

Outside of a person’s love, the most sacred thing they can give is their labor.

I’m off to Australia. Y’all have a wonderful holiday and I’ll see you in 2025 with exciting new work. Thanks for everything.

-Reed

1. No, they don’t give them to you for free. Yes, I am on the Grammy Board. Yes, I am going to say we should change this. No, they aren’t going to change it.

2. If you’re curious— Zigaboo, Ringo, Art Blakey and Max Weinberg. List subject to change, as always.

3. Three words for those that know: Des Moines, Iowa.

4. There are so many classic tales from this tour, but a personal favorite involves Donnie trying to answer a call from Billy Bob Thornton and getting extremely pissed off at his flip phone.

5. We’re all patrons, by the way.

6. Black coffee: $2.50. Beer: $5. One stream of a song that someone spent time and treasure on: $0.0003. It’s not your fault. We didn’t make these decisions.